


harry potter: an unusual boy

by Azurite_Aster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Critical, Gen, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slytherin Harry Potter, eventual draco/harry bc they're babies rn, snape character rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurite_Aster/pseuds/Azurite_Aster
Summary: On his eleventh birthday, a few days after the unusually erratic behavior of the Dursleys, on a rock in the middle of the sea, Harry Potter found out he was a wizard. And not just any wizard. The child of parents who thrice defied one of the darkest wizards to have ever lived in all of Britain, born as the seventh month died.On his eleventh birthday, a very large man from a school with a very unusual name came and whisked Harry Potter away to a world that no one in Little Whinging could have ever imagined. And for a month, he returned to the very ordinary world of Little Whinging only to disappear once more, never to be seen again.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One (but not really)

**Author's Note:**

> so, fair warning, i've never posted anything on here or any site like this. i also didn't really edit this, i just kind of posted before i chickened out, so if there's mistakes let me know. please be kind, but also please let me know what you think.

Harry Potter was a very unusual boy, who lived in a very ordinary house, on a very ordinary street, in a very ordinary neighborhood. His aunt and uncle were perfectly normal of course, and their darling son, Dudley, was perfectly average. The Dursleys saw their ordinariness and normalness as a point of pride, and they were perfectly average until you looked a little bit closer.

It would be an insult to call Uncle Vernon a pitbull. To the dog. He was big and round, and had an impressive mustache that was the envy of all the men on the street. But his eyes were those of a shark, dead and cold, but his temper was explosive, and Harry Potter was frequently on the receiving end of it. In fact, the only time Vernon Dursley ever showed real emotion was when he was punishing Harry for things he had no control over and could never explain. It was almost like he relished unleashing his anger, and it never boded well for the unusual Harry Potter.

Aunt Petunia was everything her husband was not. Where he was big and round, she was tall and stick thin, and constantly had the look of someone smelling something particularly nasty. Her eyes could never be described as dead and cold, she was always feeling something, and when she looked at her nephew, the look in her eyes could only be described as white hot hatred and disgust. The only time that look wasn’t directed at Harry Potter was when she was sending it at the neighbors.

Dudley Dursley. The youngest Dursley. He was everything his father was and more. Big and round and slow, he was the terror of Privet Drive, Little Whinging. If there was a little kid crying in a bush, it was because of Dudley. If there was a broken window or an egged house, it was because of Dudley. In fact, if anything was broken, beaten, or damaged on Privet Drive, it was probably because of Dudley. Dudley liked breaking things, and his friends liked being friends with the biggest bully on the block and the schoolyard. The one thing Dudley liked most in the world, was tracking down his cousin, Harry Potter. It was rare that Dudley could find him, and when he did, it was rarer still that he managed to land a hit on Harry Potter, because Harry, despite his unusualness, was smarter than Dudley and faster.

Harry Potter. He was an odd looking boy, made odder still by his ill-fitting clothes that looked to be older than him. From his messy black hair, to his impossibly green eyes, to his knobby knees, to his always tan skin, Harry Potter stuck out on Privet Drive like a sore thumb. But the oddest thing about him wasn’t his unusual features, it was the expansive lightning bolt scar that covered most of his forehead. It was the first thing that the neighbors would see, when they would see him wandering the streets at hours that no child should be out at. New teachers, as Harry grew older, would always ask Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about it at parent teacher conferences every year. And every year it was the mark that would keep him from making friends in his class. _That Potter boy with the scar_ , they would whisper, _he’s bad news_.

And so it came as no surprise to anyone that, when the new school year rolled around, when the children of Little Whinging all headed off to school, Harry Potter was off to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. But it would surprise everyone, just a little, that he never returned that summer, or any following summer, or any holiday. When asked, the Dursleys would say that he was at their summer program, that he needed the extra help to fix his unusual behavior. Eventually, as more school years and holidays and summers came and went without a single reappearance of the unusual Harry Potter, he became something of an urban legend in Little Whinging. Parents would tell their wayward children to watch their tone, lest they become like Harry Potter. This story would grow and grow and grow, to the point where no one could tell where the facts ended and the fantasy began.

Not that it mattered.

None of it was true. Yes, the Dursleys tried to send Harry Potter off to St. Brutus’. Yes, Harry Potter never stepped foot in Little Whinging again. But the story of how Harry Potter disappeared was far different than what any person in Little Whinging could have ever imagined.

On his eleventh birthday, a few days after the unusually erratic behavior of the Dursleys, on a rock in the middle of the sea, Harry Potter found out he was a wizard. And not just any wizard. The child of parents who thrice defied one of the darkest wizards to have ever lived in all of Britain, born as the seventh month died.

On his eleventh birthday, a very large man from a school with a very unusual name came and whisked Harry Potter away to a world that no one in Little Whinging could have ever imagined. And for a month, he returned to the very ordinary world of Little Whinging only to disappear once more, never to be seen again.


	2. Chapter One: In which an unusual boy makes a very curious friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely hate dialogue, also this is mostly unedited so let me know about any mistakes

Harry Potter stared in awe as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, tapped the bricks of the courtyard’s wall with a pink umbrella. They jumped out of the way, as if operating on hydraulics and Harry Potter, for the first time in many years, stepped into the wizarding world of London.

If Harry Potter had been a very different little boy, that is, if he had been a more ordinary little boy, he might have thought everything he was seeing was too fantastical to be real. But he wasn’t ordinary, he was incredibly extraordinary. All his life, strange things had been happening to him. His hair grew back overnight, he teleported from one place to another, that terribly ugly sweater that one year that had shrunk to the size of a hand puppet, and then the thing at the zoo.

Harry Potter was not your average little boy.

Owls flew overhead, some carrying letters or parcels or newspapers. Fantastical looking men and women, in robes all different colors of the rainbow, bustled by looking for all the world like they had stepped out of a Victorian period drama. Boys and girls shouted and ran by, waving their letters from Hogwarts around while their parents hurried after them, shouting to slow down.

“Righ’, so, firs’ things firs’, we gots to head to Gringotts. Get ya some gold so we can get ya books an’ all o’ that,” Hagrid said after letting Harry look around in awe, “Professor Dumbledore, good man him, gave me th’ key to yer vault, no worries there.”

Hagrid cut his way easily through the massive crowds, standing head and shoulders above even the tallest of adults and Harry quickly followed on his heels, not wanting to get left behind. 

Gringotts, Harry learned, was a massive white marble building, staffed almost completely with goblins who all looked much the same. Some were leading witches and wizards through one of the many doors that lined the massive chamber Harry and Hagrid had stepped into after being let into the building, while others were sitting at high counters inspecting precious gems or examining gold coins. More goblins still were counting out crisp bills while witches and wizards in normal clothes waited. Looking closer, Harry realized, some of the people in the normal clothes looked like Muggles, staring around the chamber in disbelief much like Harry himself was.

Hagrid ushered him towards a free goblin. 

“Morning,” Hagrid said to the goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s vault.”

“Do you have his key, sir?”

“Oh, I’ve got it here somewhere, just a sec,” and he started emptying his pockets onto the pristine counter. Moldy biscuits, a cracked teacup as large as Harry’s head, a newspaper dated from three weeks ago, several broken quills, enough parchment to write a novel. The goblin wrinkled his long nose, sliding his ledger away from the growing pile.

“Got it,” Hagrid exclaimed, holding up a tiny golden key. “Professor Dumbledore himself gave it to me for this.”

Peering closely at the key, the goblin nodded. “Everything seems to be in order, but it is most strange that Professor Dumbledore had the Potter key.” Bringing a magnifying glass up to the key, he studied it even closer. “No matter.”

“Er, righ’, and I’ve also got a letter from the professor,” puffing his chest. “About the  _ You-Know-What _ in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

Gingerly, the goblin plucked the letter from Hagrid, reading carefully.

“Very well,” he said, handing it back, “someone will take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

The goblin, Griphook, approached them, carefully taking the small key from Hagrid, and turned to go through one of the many doors that others had disappeared through. They descended a short staircase and walked down a narrow corridor that felt like it was sloping downwards, lit by torches mounted on the stone walls that cast pools of shadows at their feet. Twice, Harry stumbled over something hidden in shadow only to be hauled upright by one of Hagrid’s massive hands. 

It was several minutes before they finally reached a wooden track that multiple carts were sitting on, each with a dully shining lamp swinging from a hook. The goblin silently motioned for them to get in the cart. Harry, looking first at the cart and then at Hagrid, highly doubted that they would all fit in the little cart.

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Potter, that these carts can fit much more than you would think.” The goblin’s voice was startlingly soft, with an accent that curled around his words.

Reassured, but still doubtful, Harry clambered into the cart after Hagrid settled in, finding himself with plenty of room, a puzzle that he had little interest in trying to solve lest he give himself a headache.

The goblin’s lips twitched, as if he was trying to restrain a smile, at Harry as they both fit into the cart with ease, even with the massive Hagrid scrunched in. Griphook turned towards the front of the cart, the end with the lamp, and with little warning they surged into motion. They whipped around hairpin turns at breakneck speed, bottomed out in hills where it felt like Harry had left his stomach far behind him, and careened around corners, heading steadily deeper into the depths of the Gringotts’ vaults.

In the distance, Harry heard a roar and his mind instantly went to the dragons that Hagrid had first mentioned out on the sunny streets of Diagon Alley. They had seemed fantastical and magical and the embodiment of everything being a wizard meant then, in the warm sunlight, but now, in the gloom of the underground, they seemed far more menacing and dangerous and Harry remembered some of the darker fairy tales, of knights being roasted alive in their shining suits of armor. He swallowed and held tight to the sides of the cart.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ the cart came to an abrupt stop, with Harry and Hagrid nearly toppling over the sides while Griphook used the momentum to leap easily onto the stone platform. He waited until both Hagrid and Harry had found their balance before walking deeper into the cave system of vaults, where the tracks did not reach, until the three of them came to a stop in front of an old, worn stone door with a number carved into it that was impossible to make out.

Reaching into a pocket, the swarthy goblin pulled out the key that Hagrid had first presented all the way back in the original chamber that they had first entered. The key looked far larger in Griphook’s hand than it had in Hagrid’s. “Mr. Potter, as it is your first trip onto sovereign goblin territory, would you care to do the honors?”

Eyes wide, Harry took the key, turning it over in his fingers. “What do I do with it?”

“What do you normally do with a key?”

Looking back at the door, Harry blinked in surprise at the sudden appearance of a keyhole that had formed at chest height. Slowly, like he was afraid that he would be sucked through, he put the little golden key into the keyhole and turned it.

The door opened on silent, hidden hinges.

Piles of bronze knuts, mountains of silver sickles, and heaps of golden galleons greeted Harry when he stepped inside. Jewels the size of his fist were littered all over, overflowing chests that looked like they were from a pirate film. Rings, and necklaces, and bracelets, and what looked like an ancient suit of armor were shoved, as if forgotten, into a back corner in more chests. 

“Righ’ Harry, pile some of all them coins into this here bag, there ya go, good lad.” Hagrid’s gruff voice cut through Harry’s shock with ease. “Need to get ya enough for a few terms.” His massive hands were filling a sack with coins, to the point where Harry wasn’t certain he would be able to lift it on his own.

Griphook stood in the doorway of the vault, occasionally checking a gold pocket watch that dangled from his long fingers. “Mr. Hagrid, if we’re done here, it would be best to head for vault 713 sooner rather than later. It’s a rather significant journey.”

“Righ’ then, Harry, let’s get going.” Hagrid sounded less than thrilled about getting back into the cart.

Climbing back into the cart, now armed with a significant amount of wizard gold, they took off once more, at an even faster pace than before. Next to him, Hagrid looked like he was on the verge of being sick as they rocketed further and further underground. Eventually they came to a stop in front of an ancient looking vault, older even than what Harry’s had looked like, with  _ 713 _ carved into it.

“Stand back, please,” Griphook said and reached out with a long, spindly finger and  _ stroked _ the door just so. The door seemed to consider the touch before it opened with a long, slow groan. “If anyone not authorized to do so had tried that, they would have been sucked in and left to rot.” Griphook sounded awfully pleased about this.

Gently pushing past Harry, Hagrid stepped into the vault, which seemed oddly empty considering the security measures in place to protect its contents. The only thing in there was a decidedly unimpressive little package that was swallowed up in Hagrid’s massive hand and disappeared into his coat pocket. “Righ’ then, let’s get going. Lots to do still today, Harry, lots to do.”

With a groan that rivalled the vault door, Hagrid heaved himself back into the cart and dropped his head between his knees. He stayed like that for the rest of the trip. They didn’t hear the dragon again, much to Harry’s relief, and they whipped around corners and up hills until they were finally stepping outside into the bright streets of Diagon Alley, with a seemingly weightless bag of gold.

“Tell ya what, why don’t you go and get fitted for yer robes, righ’ o’er there. Need me a pick me up after that trip, and I’ll meet ya to get yer books an’ all that after yer done.”

“Just over there, Hagrid?” Squinting, Harry could just make out the sign on the shop. “Madam Malkin’s?” But Hagrid had already taken off, striding through the crowds with ease. “Guess I’m on my own then.” He muttered, before hesitantly walking over and into the shop.

Madam Malkin, the apparent namesake and owner of the shop, was a small witch with a smile that more than made up for her lack of size. 

“For Hogwarts? Yes? Excellent, go on back there, up on that stool, next to the other young man if you don’t mind and I’ll be right with you.” Madam Malkin was very brisk, and no nonsense. She didn’t spare a single glance towards his scar.

He stepped up onto the stool next to a blond boy who looked about his age, looking just a little uncomfortable with his robe being pinned up. The look melted away when he realized he was no longer alone in the fitting room. 

“Are you going to Hogwarts as well?” The boy asked with a practiced air of superiority, and his eyes flicking over Harry’s unkempt appearance, from his broken glasses to his shirt that swallowed him whole.

“Er, yeah. I am. It’ll be my first year.” Inwardly, Harry cringed at how awkward and unsure he sounded in front of the other boy.

“Me as well. Any idea what house you’ll be Sorted into? Me, I know I’ll be Sorted into Slytherin. Everyone in my family has been.”

“Oh, um, I don’t really know.”

“Well, you won’t  _ really _ know until the Sorting happens now will you?  _ Hogwarts, A History _ mentioned that in the first chapter. Of course I only had time to skim it,” a girl with big, bushy hair and slightly oversized front teeth. “But if I had to guess what house I would be, it’d probably be Ravenclaw, that’s the house that values intellectual ability.”

The blond boy’s face immediately twisted into a sneer of superiority that Harry recognized from Dudley’s face. It was almost always directed at people who looked like Harry. Whose skin wasn’t the same shade of white as Dudley’s.

“I suppose you’re a Muggleborn if you felt the need to read that book.”

“If you mean that I was born to Muggle parents then yes. Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you.” And she stuck her hand out to the blond boy.

He looked at it as if it was something distasteful, and very carefully took it. “Draco Malfoy. I suppose I’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts then, Miss Granger.” And he motioned to the witch to take off the robe that she had just finished pinning up before whisking away in a flurry of self importance.

Harry looked up at Hermione who was biting back a smile. “My name’s Harry, Harry Potter. I’d like to know about your book.”

Hermione looked at him with a start, and blinked in surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah, I was raised by Muggles, didn’t know I was a wizard until last night when a man came knocking on our door in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, that’s excellent. We can do our school shopping together, this was my first stop, after we stopped in at the bookstore of course, but I still need to get my books. Mum and Dad didn’t realize the exchange was so high so they had to go withdraw more money, but they had brought enough for me to get my robes while they’re stopping at the bank, the Muggle bank that is, Gringotts doesn’t let them withdraw from their Muggle accounts of course, but why would they, it's a wizarding bank, not a Muggle one.” The entire time, Harry hadn’t seen her inhale once which would have been impressive if Aunt Petunia hadn’t yelled at him for longer.

“Er, so, you’ve already been fitted then?” Almost as if it had been arranged the witch accidentally pricked him with a needle, and Harry winced as she murmured her apologies.

“Oh, yes. Madam Malkin said it would only take a few minutes for her to finish my robes and cloak, and I know it’s much faster here than in the Muggle world, I do wish she would be faster so we can get our coursebooks. I was thinking of getting some background reading, you know, so I can catch up on wizarding history.”

Speaking loudly, Madam Malkin appeared holding two parcels tied in twine. “That’s you, dearies. Have a good school year.”

Harry blinked. Hermione had been speaking so fast and for so long that he hadn’t even noticed that the witch had not only finished his measurements and adjustments, she had also finished his robes. “Thank you, ma’am.” But she had already turned away to speak to other customers, and both Harry and Hermione had been shooed away to make room for them.

“I told my Mum and Dad that if they couldn’t find me at Madam Malkin’s that I would be there, at,” and Hermione squinted at the faded sign. “At Flourish and Blotts!” Grabbing Harry’s hand she pulled him along with her through the small crowd that surrounded the register, and pulled him all the way back towards the furthest shelves, which definitely didn’t hold first year books.

Harry barely had the chance to look at the books as Hermione tugged him deeper and deeper between shelves packed with books as big as his chest and bound with leather, to those that were as small as his palm and carefully wrapped in silk. From  _ Jinxes, Hexes, and Curses of the Middle Ages  _ to  _ Madame Hendrickson's Laundry Cures _ and finally,  _ finally _ , they came to a stop in what was clearly the history section.

“Look, Harry, there’s so much we have to learn! Can you believe it?” Hermione’s hands were clasped together beneath her chin and she was staring with wide eyes at the shelves. “This is the book I was talking about earlier, it seems a little out of date but I think it’s a good starting point for the different houses and everything.” And she shoved a heavy book into Harry’s hands.

Pulling a notebook out of her pocket, she started scribbling, occasionally looking up to squint at the titles in front of her. He left her to it, and started going deeper into the stacks of books before he came to a stop.  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort _ by Carlisle Alderton. It was slim and covered in dust, like Harry was the first one to pull it down. Its pages were thin and delicate and he paged through carefully, until he came across a chapter titled  _ The Potters _ . Waving furiously up at him was a man who looked just like him with the messy hair, and a woman with eyes just like his.

Blinking back tears, he snapped the book shut and returned to Hermione’s side who was still writing down titles like her life depended on it. “Hermione, should we start looking for our coursebooks?”

Jumping, Hermione whirled. “You scared me! Oh, but I suppose we should, my parents will be there looking for me by now I think.” 

Walking together back towards the front of the store, Harry pulled out his supply list. “How’d you even get here anyway?”

“Professor McGonagall, she’ll be our transfiguration professor, showed us how. She had had to leave though to show some other Muggleborns how to get here.” Hermione stood on her tiptoes to try and see above the heads of the much taller adults. “Didn’t a professor come get you?”

“Um, no, Hagrid did. I think I was actually supposed to wait for him at Madam Malkin’s.”

Hermione suddenly pointed at a couple in excitement. “Look! There’s my Mum and Dad. Why would he leave you alone? All the Muggleborns are supposed to be school shopping this week. At least, that’s what the Professor said. Mum, Dad, this is Harry, Harry, this is my Mum and Dad.”

He was abruptly shoved in front of a tall black man, who had a warm if confused smile, and a tallish woman who looked moments away from laughing.

“Hermione, dear, who’s your friend?” The woman looked concerned even though she was fighting back laughter.

“ _ Mum _ , I already told you, this is Harry, he’s also from a Muggle family, but the professor who took him here left him alone at Madam Malkin’s, can you  _ believe _ that?”

“I’m sure the professor didn’t just leave him alone and he’s probably out looking for him now, isn’t he Harry?”

All eyes turned towards him. “Er, actually he said he was going to get a pick me up from the Leaky Cauldron after we left Gringotts. He never actually said when he was gonna be back.”

Silence fell on the little group, Hermione’s mother stared at him. “Well, Harry darling, you’re more than welcome to join us, and we’d be more than happy to drive you home too. This is my husband Jacob, and my name is Evelyn.”

* * *

The Grangers were everything a family should be, Harry thought. Jacob was tall, nowhere near Hagrid’s height but Harry wasn’t entirely sure that Hagrid was even completely human, and was Evelyn’s opposite in every physical way. Where he was tall, it would be generous to call her average height. His skin was dark, almost like Harry’s but not quite, but Evelyn was pale, as white as the Dursleys were. And where Evelyn matched her daughter’s energy, Jacob watched them going back and forth with an adoring smile. 

Shopping with them turned out to be an exercise in patience. Hermione and her mother fed off each other; getting their books probably should have only taken a few minutes at the most, the store owner had set up stands with books grouped by year so that they could be grabbed quickly without much effort and then get rung up at the register. But mother and daughter were inspecting the books of upcoming years and Jacob had to intervene to get them to move on to the next store.

It was like that in every shop.

Harry followed them with delight, and shared exasperated looks with Jacob as he tried in vain to keep them moving. It got to the point where Harry had forgotten all about the man who had told him he was a wizard, who had shown him a world where he could fit in. Until he came barrelling up towards him and the Grangers on their way to the wand shop.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry! I’ve been lookin’ all over this blasted place for you --,” Hagrid boomed, he was even more noticeable with the caged snowy owl that he was carrying who looked less than pleased with the way that it was being handled. “Who’re you lot?”

Jacob had edged in front of all three of them, arms filled with both Harry’s and Hermione’s shopping. “My name’s Jacob Granger. Who are you?”

Hagrid’s chest puffed out. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

“Ah, I see. The man who left an eleven year old boy alone in the middle of a crowded place that he had never been before.” Evelyn’s voice was scathing.

Looking like he had been slapped, the massive man took a step back. “The wizarding world is different from the Muggle world, no one woulda done nothing to him.”

Both Jacob and Evelyn looked less than impressed with his reasoning.

Hermione, sensing a standoff, something she was  _ very _ familiar with, spoke up. “We just have to get our wands now, if you’d like to come with us?”

The short walk to the wand shop, Ollivander’s the best place to get wands according to Hagrid, was spent in tense silence. Gone was the easy going attitudes of before, replaced with a tension that Harry knew well from the Dursleys.

It seemed Hermione also felt it. Her nervous babbling filled every second of the walk and ranged from their course books to outside reading to whether alchemy was real or if it was as much a legend in the wizarding world as it was in the Muggle world to why people were sorted into the houses that they end up in. And while Hagrid sometimes opened his mouth to answer her questions, there was no pause in her rambling and so eventually he just gave up trying to get a word in.

Until they got to Ollivander’s. “Well, shop’s a bit small, prolly only the kids and one of you could squeeze in. There’s lots of wand an’ arm wavin’ when it comes to gettin’ a wand.”

* * *

Mr. Ollivander was handing wands to both Harry and Hermione left and right, sometimes they only had the chance to grip it before he was snatching it back, and it was Hermione who finally matched with a wand first.

She sent multiple ribbons, Harry saw blue and bronze, shooting out of the wand tip, and Mr. Ollivander exclaimed and clapped his hands. “An impressive wand, Miss Granger. Ten and three quarter inches, vinewood, and a dragon heartstring core. Very impressive indeed. I have no doubt you will astound us all.”

It was another dozen wands before the odd little man finally came back from deep in the shop with a dusty box that looked like it had remained on the shelves for longer than Harry had been alive. “Yes, yes, why not, why not. An unusual combination this wand. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple,” he carefully took it out of the box, carefully tucking back the brown paper that it was wrapped in. “Go on. Give it a nice wave.”

When Harry gripped the wand, he felt like he had finally found an extension of himself. Unlike anything he had ever felt before. Warmth flooded him, and when he waved it, an explosion of sparks came out of the end that seemed to change color in the light. Green and silver glinted back at him when he looked up at the cloud. Hermione whooped and cheered while Mr. Ollivander watched on with a creased brow.

“Curious, very curious,” he carefully put the wand back into its box. “Curious indeed.”

Harry looked at him, head tilted. “Er, sorry, but what’s curious, sir?”

Mr. Ollivander looked at him with his peculiar eyes. “I remember every wand that I have ever sold. I remember selling your mother her wand, your father his, and every witch and wizard who has ever bought a wand from me. It just so happens, that the phoenix whose feather lives in your wand, also donated another. Just one other. And it resides in the wand whose master gave you that scar.”

Harry looked at him, aghast. Hermione and her mother, who had accompanied them into the shop, wore matching expressions of alarm.

“He did great things, oh, they were terrible things yes, but great. The wand chooses the wizard after all… I think we can expect great things from you as well, Mr. Potter.”

They hastily paid him, seven gold galleons apiece, and left with Mr. Ollivander’s peculiar gaze watching them. 

Hagrid and Jacob were waiting for them outside, their piles of school supplies resting on the ground.

“Well, this’ll be where Harry and me’ll have to part ways from you all. Y’know how to get back onto the streets of Muggle London, don’t ya?” Hgrid dropped a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Oh, Harry, you must promise that you’ll keep in contact,” Hermione turned towards her mum. “Mum, do you have a pen?”

“This owl will be able to find anyone to deliver letters,” Hagrid hefted the owl cage that he was still holding. “Even without knowing yer address.”

Hermione and Harry parted ways for the first time then. Harry returned to Privet Drive for the last time in his life, not that he knew that, but this time with his first ever friend just an owl away. He had little idea just how much that friendship would change his life in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@azurite-aster](https://azurite-aster.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@azurite-aster](https://azurite-aster.tumblr.com/)


End file.
